


Nick

by ChokolatteJedi



Series: Nick Verse [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Abuse, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Jossed, Pre-Series, Teenagers, non-canon backstory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-27 08:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2685662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChokolatteJedi/pseuds/ChokolatteJedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After making the choice not to go to school today, Neal has some other choices to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hospital

**Author's Note:**

> Well, the mirror fic was supposed to be a one off, not the start of a new 'verse, but since I got such great feedback… I'm a sucker for young, hurt, Neal. :D
> 
> This is going to diverge from canon (I'm behind in my episodes, so I'm not sure of all of Neal's backstory anyway, but I know enough to know that this is diverging) :D
> 
> UPDATE: I had some time to go back over this and edit, so you might notice a few changes. Some of them are grammatical (thank you ocgirl!), and some are a reflection of the fact that I’ve plotted and researched this out now and had to make a few tweaks.
> 
> This story begins in November of 1993, when Neal is 16 years old, and in his Junior year of High School.

After a few hours of walking aimlessly, grateful simply that yesterday’s snow had given way to cold sunshine, Neal became aware of how much his shoulder and face were hurting. His lower side had been hurting for a while, but it had since stopped, and for some reason that worried him. He was also hungry.

Unfortunately, most of the places where he could get food were places where he would be recognized. And even if they didn't recognize him specifically, Neal knew that he looked young – probably too young to pass for a college student. Not that he could name any local colleges at the moment. He didn't want to answer any awkward questions about why he wasn't in school right now.

Hospitals gave you food.

Neal wasn't sure where the thought came from, but he was pretty sure that it was correct. He paused his wandering and finally took in a little of his surroundings. He was downtown, and there was a hospital just a few blocks over, if he recalled correctly.

Stopping made Neal aware of how much his legs were aching, and how cold it was for March, and he quickly started off again. His memory was correct, and he soon found himself stumbling into a quiet emergency room. There was only one other person there; an older woman coughing softly in the corner. That surprised Neal, as he had this mental image of ERs being extremely crowded, but perhaps that was just because he had only been in them at night.

Neal walked up to the counter and waited for the woman there to look up. After waiting for more than a few minutes, Neal cleared his throat. "Excuse me?" he asked politely.

"Fill out the form on the clipboard and return it," the woman replied without looking up.

Neal picked up the clipboard and studied it. The first line caught him up short, however. What was he supposed to put for his name? He didn't want anyone to know who he was, or to know what had happened to him. That was the whole reason he hadn't gone to school today. If he gave them his name, they might call his father. That was absolutely something he could not let happen.

"Can't remember your name?" the woman asked sarcastically, still looking at her computer. When Neal didn't reply, she finally looked up. Whatever else she was going to say, Neal never found out, because her eyes widened when she saw him. They stared at each other silently for a few moments before Neal finally looked down, hating the pity that he could read in her eyes.

"Hang on a moment," she said. "Take a seat."

Abandoning the clipboard, Neal retreated to the waiting area. He sat near the door - the closer to flee from - though now that he had stopped walking his legs were shaking and he wasn't sure he could run if he wanted to. His backpack pressed awkwardly into him when he leaned back into the chair, but he didn't have the energy to take it off. The war between his fight and flight mechanisms was short-lived, however, as the throbbing in his stomach picked up again and his toes began to tingle. At some point the dirty, slushy snow he had been tromping through had soaked his sneakers, and Neal was suddenly aware of how cold his feet were.

After a few minutes, the woman returned to her desk and shortly thereafter the interior doors opened. An older man with grey hair and a stethoscope around his neck emerged and approached Neal. Neal tensed, but the man smiled reassuringly at him. "Hello there," he said. "I'm Doctor Halden." His voice was low and gravelly, and Neal felt himself relaxing minutely. "Is there a name you would like me to call you?" he asked.

Neal frowned, but he didn't hear any judgment in Doctor Halden's voice. Neal was very good at hearing the emotion hidden in other's voices. But the doctor wasn't judging him, and had given him the chance to give a fake name. "Nick," he finally said. It was close to his actual name, but not too close.

"Well, Nick," the Doctor said his name without any inflection, "would you like to come back to an exam room? I'll be able to help you back there."

The exam room was far from the doors, the wary part of Neal's mind cautioned, but his legs were still jelly and his stomach was rumbling and his shoulder was really throbbing and Doctor Halden was looking at him so kindly... Neal nodded.

He started to stand up, but when his knees buckled, Doctor Halden was there, thrusting a hand beneath his elbow and helping to pull him upright. Once Neal was standing, the Doctor waited, letting him decide. Neal took a hesitant step, and when his knees didn't buckle this time, he took another one. Doctor Halden let his hand drop like it was the most natural movement, letting Neal do it on his own. He stayed close, however, managing to walk the fine line between comfortingly near and hovering.

Once they were through the waiting room's doors and into a long hallway, Doctor Halden took a step away, and Neal followed him to the right. They continued a ways before the doctor stopped, Neal a beat behind him. Doctor Halden opened the closest door, and gestured for Neal to precede him.

It was an exam room, with the typical lifted bed and pair of hard chairs, though Neal was surprised to see a water cooler in one corner. Until he saw it, he hadn't realized how thirsty he was. "Help yourself to some water," Doctor Halden said, seeming to read his mind.

The insight almost halted Neal, but his thirst won out and he quickly pulled out one of the cone-shaped paper cups and filled it. The water was cool and fresh and soothed his throat.

Doctor Halden waited until Neal had finished his water, shrugged off his backpack, and perched on the edge of the exam table before taking a chair himself and consulting his clipboard. "So, Nick, where does it hurt?" he asked.

It took Neal a moment to remember his assumed name, and a moment longer to catalog his hurts. His feet had stopped tingling and he was starting to feel them again, so he decided not to mention them. "My shoulder, my face, my stomach, my legs," he admitted.

To his mild surprise, the doctor didn't write anything down. "Your legs: were they injured or have you just been walking for a long time?"

Neal startled a little - was it really that obvious that he had been walking all morning?

Doctor Halden seemed again to read his mind. "You have a school bag, so I guessed you were heading to school at some point. It is closer to lunch than breakfast now, Nick. I assume that you have been walking for a while. I could be wrong, however."

Neal considered this. Had his legs been hurting this morning? He didn't think so. He honestly hadn't noticed them at all until he had sat in the waiting room; that probably meant that they hadn't been injured last night. "Just walking, I think," he admitted.

"Okay, we'll take care of that," Doctor Halden said. "And your stomach, is that hunger or pain?"

This, Neal knew the answer to without much thought. "Both."

Once again, the Doctor didn't make any notes. Neal wondered absently if he had a photographic memory, or if he was just waiting until he was out of the room. "And your face; is it just the black eye, or does it hurt anywhere else? Any headache or dizziness?"

"There wasn't a headache before, but now, kinda?" Neal admitted. "Not really dizzy, but my vision is a little blurry." Neal was slightly surprised at his own candor, and at the admittance of something he hadn't even really consciously realized until now. He tried to remember if his vision had been blurry when he had shaved this morning, but the memory wouldn't come.

"And your shoulder: was it twisted or pulled, or was it slammed into?"

Neal clearly remembered the mirror, but he couldn't remember if his arm had also been pulled on. Possibly a little as they left the bar? "Just slammed into something?" It was more of a question than a statement, but the doctor didn't seem to mind.

"Okay, last set of questions, Nick. Any allergies, especially to medicines or metals? Have you taken any specific painkillers before that you can be sure you aren't allergic to?"

Neal debated for a moment, wondering how rare an allergy to nickel was and if it would reveal his actual identity. Finally he decided to trust this doctor; if they figured him out, he could always still run. "No allergies except to nickel. I've taken Tylenol and Advil before many times."

Doctor Halden put his clipboard down and regarded Neal steadily. "Thank you, Nick. Now here's what we're going to do, with your permission. I'll have the nurse rig up an IV for you. We'll make sure that the needle is pure surgical steel - no nickel alloys. The IV will have fluids to rehydrate you, and a mild painkiller - I'm going to recommend Tylenol." He paused, and Neal got the impression that the doctor was waiting for some kind of assent, so he nodded.

"Now, the IV will rehydrate you, which will hopefully clear up a few things. Blurry vision, headache, and stomach cramps are all signs of dehydration as well as other problems. If we get the dehydration off the table, and if you can hold down a little solid food, then we can see if some of your symptoms will be fixed as well or if we need to look for other causes. Any questions?"

Neal shook his head. Honestly he was feeling a little overwhelmed, but the plan that Doctor Halden had outlined sounded good.

The doctor smiled kindly at him again. "Alright, I'll go talk to the nurse about that IV. She should be here in about five minutes, and then I'll be back about five-ten minutes after that. Sound good?"

Neal wanted to say no, to beg the other man not to leave him alone, but he shoved the thought away. He was sixteen for crying out loud! He hadn't been afraid of being alone since he was four! Swallowing convulsively, he nodded, and then purposely looked away, refusing to watch the man leave like a pathetic puppy.

The nurse came as promised, smiling cheerfully as she asked for his uninjured arm. She then quickly prepped and inserted the IV needle into his arm, right below the elbow. Within a minute she had a bag of fluids attached and hung on a hook on the wall that Neal hadn't even noticed. "Be right back," she warned, before ducking out. She quickly returned with a vial and needle, and injected something into the tube on his IV; Neal assumed it was the promised Tylenol. Then, with another brilliant smile, she was gone.

Alone, Neal felt himself fading; the adrenaline of his deviant choice to play hooky that morning and his mindless wandering had faded, and the second rush from his moment of panic in the ER was now draining away. He felt sleepy, and warm, and he briefly wondered if the vial had held more than the standard Tylenol. But perversely, Neal trusted Doctor Halden, and he didn't think the older man had drugged him. So he allowed himself to drift into a state between consciousness, feeling calmer and more safe than he had in weeks - possibly longer.

He wasn't sure how much time passed, but Doctor Halden returned, and Neal heard him speaking, but the words didn't penetrate the pleasant fog in his brain. He left again, and then returned an indeterminate time later. Neal felt a slight tugging on his arm, and soon after the fog began to fade.

"Nick, are you back with me?" Doctor Halden's soothing voice brought him back to the hospital room, and Neal blinked at the question.

"Yes?"

"I think Nurse Maggie underestimated how hard the Tylenol would hit you on an empty stomach," Doctor Halden said. That made a fuzzy sort of sense to Neal. He couldn't remember eating last night, and he had definitely skipped breakfast this morning. "I asked earlier and you were a little out of it, but you did say 'anything,'" the doctor continued, waving to Neal's left.

Neal followed the gesture and saw a bright teal tray on the exam table beside him. It had a selection of pre-wrapped sandwiches and fruit, as well as a milk carton and boxes of apple and orange juice.

Immediately, Neal's stomach gurgled loudly, and Doctor Halden chuckled softly. "Help yourself," he suggested.

Neal grabbed a banana, thinking that chewing something soft might be easier on his aching face. Not that his eye was aching that much anymore, thanks to the Tylenol, but still, once that wore off, Neal was sure that his face would appreciate the gesture. As he chewed, the doctor consulted his clipboard.

"So, while you eat we'll give the Tylenol a little time to wear off, just enough that you can re-catalog your aches for me," he said. "I do have one question to start: what day do you think this is?"

"Monday?" Neal replied cautiously. The very fact that he was being asked this couldn't be a good sign.

"I thought so," Halden replied. "You seem to have gotten a bit confused at some point. Today is Sunday.”

Neal pondered that for a moment. Perhaps that explained why the ER had been so quiet. But- “The Sunday after Thanksgiving?” he asked.

Dr. Halden smiled. “Yes, you’re only slightly off.”

“Is that because of a concussion?”

“Possibly,” Dr. Halden allowed. “But it could also be a symptom of simply losing track of the days while being out of school all week. I know my sons always completely lost track of time during the winter holidays - though of course they were trying to add time to their vacations,” he finished with a conspiratorial smile.

Neal found himself mirroring the smile, relieved that his brain wasn’t necessarily scrambled. Most students did probably try to add to their vacations, rather than hoping to get out of the house.

"Now, let’s work on those dehydration symptoms.” Dr. Halden drew his attention back. “Are the blurry vision and headache still there?"

Blinking rapidly, Neal assessed this. Things had still been a little blurry during his little Tylenol trip, but they were getting much better now. The headache had gone a while ago with the painkillers. "All gone," he declared. He finished off the banana and reached for the orange juice box.

"That's good, Nick, very good," Doctor Halden said with a smile. "Hopefully we can completely rule out a concussion soon. Now as for your aches; it's your stomach, eye, shoulder, and legs, you said?" Neal nodded. "Do they all still hurt? Has anything else new begun to hurt?"

Neal ran a mental assessment for a moment. The Tylenol was still fuzzing out the pain, but his thinking was much clearer. There was a dull throbbing in his eye, and also in his shoulder. His legs felt normal, but his stomach still ached - no, not his stomach, his side. "Eye, shoulder, side," he mumbled around his straw.

"Not the legs anymore?" Doctor Halden asked, his tone completely neutral. Neal shook his head. "Now, earlier, you said stomach, but now you're saying side. Can you clarify that for me, please?"

Neal held his hand over his stomach. "This hurt before, but not anymore." He moved his hand over to his side, right above his hip. "This also hurt and still does."

"Alright, thank you," Doctor Halden looked back at his clipboard. "May I have permission to look at your side?"

Neal deliberated for a moment, but he couldn't see a downside. "Okay."

Doctor Halden smiled warmly and put his clipboard down. Then he picked up the tray of food and transferred it to the other chair. Neal quickly dropped his empty juice box and banana peel into the trash can beside the table. Neal swung his legs up onto the exam table, careful not to tangle the IV line, and then slid down onto his back. He hissed when his shoulder touched the table, and in a flash of insight remembered the mirror. He had thought there might still be a piece of it in there.

"Your shoulder?" the Doctor asked. When Neal nodded grimly, he smiled apologetically. "We'll look at that in a moment, once I'm done with your side here. Now, can you pull up your shirt?"

Neal tugged it up, carefully watching the other man's face as he did. His expression didn't change, however, and Neal felt a little relieved. He hated pity. The doctor gently began to feel Neal's side, and he was pleasantly surprised that his hands weren't cold. Neal tried to ignore the doctor's actions, but he couldn't help but gasp when a particularly sore spot was found.

After a few minutes the hands went away. "You can sit back up, Nick," the doctor said. "If you'll pull your shirt off, I can take a look at your shoulder."

Nick complied, wincing when the actions of raising his arms tugged at the wound. This time, he couldn't see Doctor Halden's face, but his hands were just as comforting as before.

"Nick, it looks like you have some shards of glass in here," he said, tone still neutral. "Can you tell me more?"

"It's a mirror," Neal admitted. "I slammed into it a few times." He waited a moment, holding his breath, but the accusation that someone else had done the slamming never came.

Instead, after a long moment, Doctor Halden withdrew his hands and spoke again. "I think that this can be removed here in the exam room, without needing surgery. I would like to get a scan of your side, so that we can tell if what I'm seeing is deep bruising or if you might have internal bleeding. I want to remove the mirror shards before we take you to imaging because it will be more comfortable for you. How does that sound?"

Neal thought about it for a moment. He had never had a CT scan before, but he knew the principle. And getting the glass out of his shoulder sounded like a good idea. "Okay."

Doctor Halden's smile widened a bit. "I also want to get a scan of your head while we're in there, just in case the pain from your black eye is hiding some more serious damage in your skull. Is that acceptable, Nick?"

"Yeah."

"Alright then. As soon as we're done with the scans I'll be able to give you ice for the swelling and a bit more Tylenol for the pain." Neal nodded, because he thought it would be expected of him. Doctor Halden simply continued. "Now, Nick, can you lie down on your stomach? It will be easier to work on your shoulder that way."

"Okay." Neal squirmed over onto his stomach, hesitating for a moment on whether to lift his arm or not before deciding that keeping it at his side was the most comfortable position.

"Good Nick. Now you just lie there and try to relax, and I'll be back with Nurse Maggie in a moment."

Neal tried his best to relax, and soon the doctor and nurse returned. She injected something into his IV, and quickly Neal felt the world slipping away as darkness consumed him.


	2. The Bus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I’ve done as much research as I can (seriously, I even found out what the weather was on those exact dates in 1993) there are things that I have taken creative license with, especially in the medical, legal, and scholarly realms. In part, this is also because I just can’t find the relevant information from all the way back in the early 90s. :P
> 
> Apologies if any of my creative licenses bother you.

Awareness sprang upon Neal, but he had long ago perfected the art of waking up without anyone noticing. He quickly took stock of his situation. The smell of antiseptic told him that he was still in the hospital, and the firm but not hard presence beneath his back felt like the exam table in his room.

He carefully flexed his arm, and was rewarded with a gentle tug in his shoulder but a lack of any real pain in that area. It seemed that his wound had been taken care of and the shards of mirror removed. Cool pressure on his eye and side indicated that the scans had been complete and the promised ice packs delivered. The lack of any real pain anywhere indicated that the extra Tylenol had also been arranged, probably through the IV line still stuck in his arm.

Everything that Neal could deduce seemed to lead to the conclusion that Doctor Halden had played strait with him, but still he hesitated. He couldn't explain it, but Neal had a feeling that everything was about to go wrong. It was a feeling that he hadn't felt once all morning, and Neal felt his gut clenching despite the lack of pain from his side. Neal had always trusted his gut, and it had always warned him of big trouble before.

A moment later, Neal heard the door to his room open and he did his best not to tense up. Tensing was a dead giveaway.

"How is he?" an unfamiliar female voice asked. Neal immediately didn't like her.

"Good, considering." That was Doctor Halden's voice, and Neal was shocked to realize that the man had been in the room with him all along.

"So this _Nick_ " and Neal could tell from her tone that she knew it wasn't his real name, "hasn't said anything about who did this to him?"

"No," Halden replied.

"No idea of his real identity?"

"No," Halden's tone was clipped, and Neal got the impression that he wasn't pleased with the woman.

"We need to run his face through the local high schools, see if we can get a name." The mystery woman insisted. Neal felt his blood run cold at the idea of them figuring out who he was. Learning who he was would lead to them learning that his- no, they couldn't find out.

"You'd have to wait until tomorrow anyway, and I would rather talk to him first," Neal's doctor said. "Now that he is healing and in a safe place, Nick might be willing to open up. I would rather ask him a few questions than go behind his back as though he was some kind of criminal."

"The one who did this-"

"Enough, Ann," There was an edge to Doctor Halden's voice that Neal hadn't heard before. "Please leave. Once Nick has awoken I will talk to him. I'll send for you when the time is right."

"Are you trying to hamper a child abuse investigation?" the woman asked in a harsh whisper. Neal hid a wince. He didn't like that term.

Doctor Halden snorted. "Are you thinking of the good of the child or the extra paperwork you have to fill out if he refuses to comply?" he asked sarcastically.

If Neal hadn't been expertly faking sleep, he might have gasped. And it wouldn't have mattered if he did, because the woman – Ann – made more than enough noise to cover it as she huffed and sputtered and finally left the room.

After a moment, Neal heard the doctor get out of his chair and walk to the door. "Maggie," he called softly. "Let's decrease Nick's does a little. He shouldn't have slept so soundly through that commotion, and I don't want him in too deep."

Neal didn't hear a reply, but a moment later Nurse Maggie came into his room and did something with his IV. Then she and Doctor Halden both left. Neal feigned sleep for a little while longer before cautiously opening one eye. He was indeed alone.

He slipped off of the exam table, wincing a bit as his shoulder and side protested. However, he was feeling miles better than he had that morning, so a little discomfort could be tolerated. Neal listened at the door, but he didn't hear anyone in the hall. Apparently mid-day on a Monday - no, Sunday - was indeed the least busy time there.

Slinging his backpack onto his good shoulder, Neal opened the door and carefully peeked into the hall, but it was as empty as it sounded. Neal spied his file in the bracket beside the door and grabbed it. Then, walking slowly, trying not to jar his injuries or raise suspicions, Neal made his escape.

oOo

Roughly a block away from the hospital, Neal began to have second thoughts. He had no idea where to go from here, and he was afraid that the snobby woman - Ann - would make trouble for Doctor Halden for his disappearance. And he worried that as soon as she got her way, or the school reported him absent too many days, or someone went by his house and reported him missing, they might look at the local hospitals.

And if they showed his picture to Ann or Maggie or Halden, and they identified him, then people would know that Neal Bennett had been abused. And anyone who knew him would know exactly who had done it. And _he_ would be furious. Neal could possibly go to a shelter, but he had volunteered at quite a few of the local shelters last summer, and he might be recognized. Plus, the police did fairly regular sweeps in those areas. He would be found too quickly at a shelter.

Neal suddenly realized that his entire thought process was dependent on one revolutionary idea: he never intended to go back home. This wasn't just about playing hooky for the day, or spending a week with a friend. This was about never, _ever_ , going home. The idea took his breath away.

And as soon as he realized that, Neal knew that he couldn't stay in this town any longer. Neal had to leave; he had to get out of town as soon as possible. He made an about-face and headed for the bus depot.

oOo

The depot was moderately populated, but most people seemed interested in minding their own business. More importantly, it was warm. Neal managed to snag a baseball hat from an unsuspecting traveler and put it on, pulling the brim down low to hide his black eye.

He was feeling pretty miserable again, with his aches back in full force and his stomach reminding him that it was almost dinner time, but at least Neal was free. He was going to figure out where he could go, buy a bus ticket, and get the hell out of here. But first…

He sat on one of the hard chairs, ignoring how the motion made his side feel pinched, and opened his backpack. To his immense shock, it was stuffed with the remaining sandwiches, fruit, and juice boxes from earlier. Neal was torn between feeling grateful to Dr Halden for the food and terrified that the man had searched his bag and already found out his name. Deciding to be grateful now and panic later, Neal grabbed a sandwich and then pulled a notebook out of his backpack. Then, careful to hide what he was looking at, he tucked his liberated medical file into the notebook and began reading.

Neal’s suspicion that Doctor Halden had been filling in his file when he ducked out into the hallway was confirmed, and Neal was thankful to note that the man did not have the stereotypically unreadable doctor handwriting.

Neal skimmed over the questions and answers that he had given, noting that some of his symptoms had indeed been caused by dehydration, which made him feel a little better about his situation. Of course, it also reminded Neal that he should drink some more water, and soon he had pulled a bottle from the depths of his bag. He deliberately sipped it as he continued to peruse his file.

He found the images from his neural scan, confirming that he didn't have a concussion or a bleed in his brain, and Neal felt a small knot in his stomach begin to loosen. Part of him, despite his need to flee, had been afraid that if something was seriously wrong with him, leaving the hospital might actually kill him. Knowing that his brain was fine was a huge relief. The scan of his side was a little more worrying, and Neal went over the notes that accompanied it intently.

_Scans indicate a minor internal bleed in the muscles of the abdomen, which had clotted by the time the patient arrived for treatment. A small incision was made and the pool of blood was drained. No new bleeding followed. The area around the bleed his heavily bruised, with slight damage visible to both the ribs and kidney. With rest, all areas should heal. Agitation of the area could lead to a reopening of the bleed._

Neal contemplated this, and did a quick assessment of his abdomen. He was able to distinguish the difference between his empty stomach and the pain in his side much better than before, and he tried to compare the level of pain he was feeling now to the levels he had felt this morning. It felt better, he finally concluded, but he really should take it easy and try not to stretch his side too much. At least if he was riding a bus instead of walking it would lessen his chances of accidentally reopening the bleed.

He also carefully ran his fingers along his side, finding the incision where they had drained the blood. It was closed by two tiny stitches and Neal resolved to put a Band-Aid over it as soon as he could find one, to avoid awkward questions. Then he returned to his file.

Doctor Halden had, according to his notes, removed three pieces of glass from Neal's shoulder, and placed a few stitches there as well. It was expected to heal with minimal scarring. His eye was a standard black eye, which he was to try to rest. There was a copy of the orders for his Tylenol and IV, and a prescription for more Tylenol, which Neal assumed they would have given to him upon his discharge. Now it made for a treasured gift that he could use as soon as he was out of town.

Neal flipped to the final page in his file and read the first few lines before he realized what he was seeing.

_Nick,_

_I understand why you are going to run, though I wish you would stay. I understand that you don't want anyone to know who you are or what happened to you, and in some ways you are old enough to make that choice for yourself. You have the right to refuse to answer any questions asked of you about what happened. However, we both know that an eager social worker won't stop there, and I'm legally mandated to report your incident. I know you will be out of the hospital by the time you read this._

_My intent was and is to help heal you. This is not to punish you, and to a certain extent not to punish or point fingers at the person who did this to you. That isn't my goal. If you want to return, I will continue to help you and to heal you, and as I said, you can refuse to answer the social worker's questions if you want to. You can also refuse to show her the ID in your wallet, which she didn't even notice._

Neal couldn't hold in a small gasp as he clutched at his pocket. Sure enough, his wallet was still there. He hadn't even thought about the fact that someone could have looked at his ID once he was unconscious. Trembling slightly now, Neal finished reading the letter quickly .

_I hope you chose this option, Nick. While you were quite lucky with regard to the stomach bleed – I assume you've read your file by now – it could always reopen. You would be safer in a hospital._

_That said, the choice is yours._

_If you chose to stay away, then all I can tell you is that over the counter Tylenol will keep your pain and discomfort to a minimum, but be sure to read the labels. If anything gets worse, please go to a hospital right away for another scan._

_Good luck._

The note wasn't signed, probably for plausible deniability or something, but it still made Neal's whole body warm up in a way that even the bus depot hadn't, and his tremors eased. Doctor Halden had known Neal heard the conversation with the social worker, and had known he would flee. And he had helped Neal do it. Despite his usual inclination, Neal knew that he could trust this man. He was suddenly struck by the urge to return to the ER, to the nice warm exam room, and let the older man help him. Neal felt that if he didn't, he would be a disappointment. He didn't want to be a disappointment any longer.

But the social worker – Ann – would be there. She would ask him questions and dig into his background. And when she found out who he was then all hell would break loose. And even if she didn't find out, Neal had actually done his research. The hospital would be required to call the cops to come collect evidence. If they did that, then, again, all hell would break loose.

Well, when he looked at it that way, hell was already going to break loose, whether Neal was at the hospital still or not, so Neal's best option was to just keep himself as far away from the storm as possible. Hopefully, once that happened, Doctor Halden would understand why he couldn't come back. And hopefully his father's friends wouldn't make trouble for the doctor for helping Neal in the first place.

That thought drained all of the warmth back out of Neal and he was suddenly struck by the need to get out of town. Now. According to the schedule, there was a bus for Chicago leaving in fifteen minutes and Neal just _knew_ that he had to be on it. Tucking his file and notebook away, he pulled out his precious stash of cash and carefully peeled a hundred dollar bill off the top. Later, when he was somewhere safe, he would count it, figure out how much he had, and make a game plan. But for now, getting out of town was the priority.

Trying to look as old as possible – maybe the black eye would make him look tougher, like someone who could actually be in college already – Neal walked up to the ticket counter. To his immense relief, the clerk barely looked at him, immersed in her work. She quickly printed Neal a ticket, gave him his change, and looked back down at her computer.

Grateful for that small mercy, Neal returned to his seat. The seven minutes until the bus pulled in seemed like an eternity, but finally it was there and the other passengers were getting off. Neal got in line, careful not to hurry, but still making sure that he was one of the first people on. He slipped into the line right before a man traveling alone, not crowding him but standing close enough that people might assume that they were together.

It wasn't until he had handed over his ticket and was safely sitting in the third row – close to the exit, but able to duck behind a seat to hide his face – that Neal began to relax slightly. He wasn't sure where this fear was coming from – no one had any reason to think he would be at the bus depot. At least, not yet. Still, it wasn't until the bus had pulled out of the depot and onto the interstate that Neal breathed a sigh of relief. And as a patrol car with flashing lights passed them, heading back down the road to the depot, Neal knew that he had moved just in time.

He was finally free.


	3. The Plan

The first few times the bus stopped, Neal held his breath, but the police never appeared. No flashing lights, no badges, no officers come to drag him back. And the further he traveled, the more he began to relax. The throbbing in his shoulder and side had faded, and his belly was nicely full. The vibration of the bus's engine through his seat was soothing, and eventually he even dozed off.

When he woke up, the sun had set. The bus had stopped again, and there was a large shuffle of passengers getting on and off. One of the newcomers seemed to know the boy sitting in front of Neal and they greeted each other cheerfully. Despite his best efforts to ignore them, pressing his warm cheek against the cool window glass and staring at the passing headlights, Neal couldn't help but overhear their conversation.

"Did you work on Miller's paper?" the newcomer asked.

"Of course not," the other replied. "The man's an idiot for assigning it over Thanksgiving. Like anyone was going to do it."

"Totally," he friend agreed. "Thank god the library is open all night tonight."

"Yeah, we'll probably see the whole class there."

Neal perked up as the two continued to commiserate. A library that would be open all night? And full of students? A library should be warm, and if there were other students around, maybe he could blend in. Colleges were bigger than High Schools, and the same should apply to their libraries. This might be a place where he could hide for a little while - long enough to take stock of his injuries, the contents of his bag, how much money he had… he might even be able to do a little research and figure out what to do from here. And who would think to look for a runaway high schooler at a college?

On the other hand, Neal might be a little young-looking still, to pass for a college student. But as the bus rumbled on, Neal gave a hard look to the two boys in front of him, comparing it to his own reflection in the window. Maybe he didn’t look too young after all. He could stop shaving, if necessary - a bit more stubble might help him. And he could always claim to have gotten in young, like having skipped a grade or something. That happened, right?

This course of action decided on, Neal closed his eyes to feign sleep and began to diligently eavesdrop on the two boys. He quickly picked up the subject of Miller’s class (Art History), topic of the paper (some aspect of ancient Roman art), the time of the class (Monday and Wednesdays at eight AM), and even the fact that there was a cafe in the library's lobby. He also picked up one of the dorm names (Breckinridge), two other teacher names (Sanderson and Ludvic), and a handful of other interesting tidbits.

His half-baked plan to follow them to campus was becoming more and more realistic, and by the time the boys turned to other topics, Neal was already half-forming a thesis for his own paper. He had always enjoyed history class, and had even started taking art history this year. From what he remembered of the murals at the Villa of the Mysteries in Pompeii, they should fit perfectly for this paper.

Neal carefully spied on the boys, determined not to miss their exit, and was rewarded when they began to gather their things a little while before his official stop. He gathered his things as well and followed behind them, noting as he did that quite a few other student-aged passengers did the same.

Neal kept with the crowd as they crossed the depot and found a waiting fleet of shuttle vans, all emblazoned with the University of Chicago logo. "Thank god they send out the extra shuttles for holidays," one girl grumbled to her friend, "it took them half an hour to come for me last time."

When her gaze swept towards him, Neal nodded in a way he hoped looked commiserating, and her smile widened a bit in return. The crowd of students quickly piled into the shuttles, almost completely filling two of them, and then they were off.

Once again, Neal leaned against the window, pretending to doze, and absorbed everything he could from the others. If he was really going to bluff his way into the library at this school, he needed all the help he could get.

The trip was fairly short, and soon the shuttles were pulling into a bus stop at what Neal assumed was the campus. The students quickly tumbled out, and Neal found the two boys from earlier. Following them down the street and across a large lawn, he soon saw a huge building that had to be the library. It was tall and blocky, with three columns of windows in the front. Bright light spilled through each of them. Inside, dozens of other students seemed to have the same intentions as Neal's guides, and were sitting all over with books and computers.

After five hours on a warm bus, his brief trek through the snow reminded Neal that his shoes were soaked through. He kind of wanted to take them off and let his feet dry out a little, but he couldn’t just walk around the library barefoot. The sight of a sweater hanging abandoned on the back of a chair quickly gave him the answer. Walking up to the front desk, he asked the attendant, "where can I find the lost and found?"

"Around the back corner, by the printers," she said, waving off to her right.

"Thanks!" Neal smiled widely at her and then followed her directions. He dug towards the bottom, reasoning that items that had been missing longer were less likely to be wanted. He found two mostly empty spiral notebooks, a handful of pens and highlighters, and even a large school sweatshirt with no name on the tag. Then, at the very bottom he found a pair of worn out sneakers. He also snagged a plastic bag that had been holding some moldy Tupperware to put his wet shoes and socks in.

The bathroom was fairly easy to find, and thankfully empty. Neal slipped off his wet shoes and his now disgusting socks and tucked them quickly into the bag. Not wanting to put it in his backpack with his precious food stash, Neal wrapped it in his windbreaker. Then he tugged on the college sweater, wincing as the action tugged both his shoulder and side.

Pulling the sweater and his shirt back up a little, Neal examined his side in the mirror. It was a little red, but in his amateur opinion that was a less a sign of budding infection and more an indication of how pale his chilled skin was. After another long look, he pulled the sweatshirt back down.

It took only a few minutes and a little painful contortion work to rinse off his soggy feet in the sink, but soon they were dried and feeling ten times better. The shoes were, of course, a little big on him, but Neal stuffed some extra paper towels in to fill the gaps.

Done, Neal took another long look at himself in the mirror. His five o’clock shadow had aged him up a bit, as hoped, and with the bright red C logo on his sweatshirt, Neal now looked the part of a U of C college student. His eye was still ringed with colorful bruising, and he looked exhausted, but it would do for now. He certainly looked far different than the Neal Bennett on his driver’s license and school ID.

Because Neal was no longer looking at himself in the mirror. He was looking at 18 year old Nick Breckinridge, college student. And for the first time, he was looking at the face of a free man.

oOo

Emerging from the bathroom, Neal looked around for a quiet place to hide and regroup. The first floor was full of students, however, so he quickly turned his focus to finding stairs. They were easy to locate, and even included helpful diagrams of the building. He easily found the art section on the third floor and began the only slightly painful trip up the stairs. His new shoes slid a bit on his feet, but they didn’t come off, so he ignored them.

The third floor was much less populated, and Neal soon found an empty nook in the Roman art section of the oversized documents area. There he settled down and emptied his backpack. He still had enough fruit and sandwiches for a couple of meals, as well as some juice boxes and granola bars for snacks. There was a second water bottle, along with the one he had refilled in the bathroom.

The school things he had brought home for the week were also there - his trapper keeper, history and art history notebooks, as well as To Catch a Thief for English. His Discman, small CD case, medical folder, and the supplies he took from the Lost and Found rounded out the large section. Neal added his wallet to the pile, burying it at the bottom of his bag in the hopes that no-one would find it and figure out his real name. If he was going to carry on this college thing for much longer, he would need a place to hide it and his money. But that could wait for a little while longer.

Packing it all carefully away, Neal then turned his attention to the smaller pocket. This held his cash, sunglasses, Gameboy, pencil bag, and a half a pack of gum. Much to his surprise, Neal also found a prescription bottle. It was made out to “Nick” and contained extra-strength Tylenol. He clutched the pill bottle tightly for a moment, shocked at the continued signs of thoughtfulness and caring from Dr. Halden. Once again, Neal was struck by the urge to run back to the bus stop, ride back to St. Louis, and return to that comfortable exam room and that kindly doctor.

But the idea was foolish: the police had been heading towards the bus stop, and they would surely get the hospital’s report soon. All of his logical reasons for running still applied, and the caring of one doctor couldn’t change those. Still… it was a tempting thought.

Hands trembling, Neal popped open the bottle, shook out two Tylenol, and quickly swallowed them down with some water. He knew it was all in his head, but just the idea of having taken the pills made some of his aches fade a little.

He quickly repacked his bag, feeling much better about his situation, as a huge, jaw-cracking yawn struck him. Neal looked around. No one had approached this area in the whole time he had been there, and it seemed fairly unpopular. Now that he was here, warm, dry, and safe, and in a fairly good hiding place, there was no reason not to take a quick nap.

Wedging his bag into the corner behind him where he hoped it would be safe, Neal pulled a couple of texts off of the shelf beside him and opened them. Best to look as though he had just dozed off while working. Then, with one last glance around, Neal pulled his hood down over his eyes and curled up to sleep.


	4. The Girls

“Oh! I’m sorry!”

Neal jerked awake at the girl’s exclamation and looked around muzzily. It took him a moment to process where he was, but quickly the memories came rushing back. “What time is it?” he asked the first thing that came to his head.

The girl, who was standing at the end of the stack, smiled knowingly. “Just shy of 2:00.”

“AM?” Neal checked.

She giggled and nodded. She had shaggy, dirty-blonde hair held back with a neon green sweatband, bright green eyes, and a little button nose that crinkled when she smiled.

Neal smiled back. Well, he’d gotten about five hours of sleep, which was more than he’d had in the last few days. Suddenly remembering where he was and what he was supposed to be doing, Neal glanced down at the open texts around him, then back at the girl. “Miller’s paper?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied.

“Well, help yourself,” Neal waved her on. “Though I warn you, these are pretty dull reads.”

The girl giggled again and came over to join him. Neal moved one of the books out of her way, internally a little shocked by how coherent and… _smooth_ he was acting. He wasn’t sure whether to blame the time, the Tylenol, or his new Nick persona taking over, but the girl seemed to like it.

“I’m April,” she said.

To Neal’s delight, the line he had practiced on the bus slid out of his mouth perfectly. “Nick Breckinridge; no relation to the dorm.”

April giggled again. “Nice.”

“So what’s your topic?” Neal asked.

“Minoan animal imagery,” April replied promptly. “You?”

“Villa of Mysteries,” he replied.

“Ooh, Ellis is writing about that!” April replied. “She’s got all the good books already at our table!”

Neal, as Nick, found it easy to feign amused annoyance. “That explains a lot.” he joked.

“You should come back with me and see what she’s got!” April offered easily. “Just first help me find the Hauser Text on Minos.”

“Deal!” Neal quickly reshelved his own works and then helped April find what she needed. Then, sliding his bag over his shoulder with only the smallest of winces, he followed her to one of the group study rooms that he had seen earlier on the library map.

This one was occupied by three girls and dozens of books stacked around haphazardly. It looked warm and inviting inside, and Neal could tell that they were laughing, though he couldn’t hear them through the soundproofed glass. For a second, he hesitated, not wanting to intrude upon their world, but then April was opening the door and announcing “I found a friend!”

Friend. The word made Neal hesitate again, but Nick ploughed forward as the other girls looked up cheerfully.

“Who’s this?” One of them asked, smiling.

“Nick, this is Heather,” April said. “And those are Tammy and Ellis,” she waved vaguely to the other two.

And again, the line just flowed forth as Neal gave a little wave. “Charmed. Nick Breckinridge, no relation to the dorm.”

The girls giggled, and April flopped down into an empty seat. “He’s doing the Villa of Mysteries, and since Ellis is hoarding those books…” she explained. The other girls glanced at one of their own, who Neal assumed to be Ellis.

She was a pretty Latina girl with long, wavy brown hair, and she seemed amused by the hoarding accusation. “I’m willing to share,” she offered smoothly, and waved Neal over. “As long as it’s understood that I’ve got first dibs.”

“Understood!” Cheerfully, Neal worked his way to her corner and made a space for himself. He pulled out his notebook and pencil and then grabbed the first book off the stack.

For a while, the group worked in relative quiet, and Neal quickly took notes the Villa of Mysteries. As he worked, he couldn’t help but glance at Ellis’s work. He didn’t know of anyone who owned a personal computer, though his school, of course, had some of the larger kind. Not only did two of the girls here have them, but Ellis’s appeared to even have a color screen! He’d never seen such a thing!

Eventually April caught him looking and she smirked. “I take it you haven’t seen the newest Powerbook?”

Neal shook his head. “I didn’t think they had color screens,” he admitted. Hopefully, his admission wouldn’t make them doubt that he was a college student, but he couldn’t figure out how to deny that he had been staring.

To his relief, April just laughed cheerfully. “Don’t worry, Tammy here hadn’t seen them either.” She nodded at one of the other girls who had short, strawberry blonde hair and glasses.

“Ain’t nobody in Vienna got anything like that,” Tammy confirmed.

“Not in Monroe, either,” Neal replied. Monroe City was a little town outside of Hannibal, where his Aunt lived, and Neal knew enough about the area to fake having lived there.

Whatever Tammy had been about to say was cut off by another girl entering the room with an armful of books. Neal couldn’t help but stare - her hair was arranged into dozens of tiny braids which appeared to be dyed bright green and purple! She was also wearing sunglasses with orange lenses that contrasted with her dark skin.

“What up!” She said, dropping the books onto an empty patch of table. With them out of the way, Neal could see that she was wearing a short skirt, a flannel shirt, and a leather jacket over it. It was the kind of outfit Neal had only seen on TV.

“Who’s the fresh meat?” The new girl asked as she dropped into a chair.

“Lori, Nick.” April said. “Nick, Lori.”

“Another stray, April?” Lori asked. “Tammy wasn’t enough?” Neal couldn’t tell from her tone if he should be offended by the comment or not, so he kept his head down, watching the girls’ exchange through his fringe.

“It’s not like he’s a puppy,” April replied.

“Hmph.” Lori turned to look at Neal and he ducked his head further, avoiding her gaze. “So how’d you get the black eye, Puppy?” she asked.

“Lori!” April sputtered.

It took Neal a few seconds to realize that Lori was addressing him - and he desperately hoped that the nickname wouldn’t stick - and a few more seconds to realize that in all of his planning, he hadn’t thought of an answer for this situation.

“Uh… my, um, brother,” Neal managed to reply. “We were just… you know, goofing off. It was an accident.”

Lori humphed again, but no one pressed him, so Neal turned back to his books. He was actually beginning to enjoy writing this paper, and as long as no new girls showed up and surprised him, he thought that he might be able to pull off this charade. Though, clearly, he needed to anticipate any more questions and think up good excuses in advance.

The group worked for a while longer in relative quiet and calm before Lori slammed down a book. “I’m starving!”

“I could use a break,” Ellis admitted.

To Neal’s embarrassment, his stomach chose that moment to gurgle.

“It’s unanimous!” Lori declared. “To the cafe!”

“Ugh. The Cafe will be picked clean by now!” Heather complained. “Bart Mart would be better.”

“But that means going out in the cold!” Tammy pointed out. Beside her, April nodded agreement.

“Nick, you chose,” Lori said.

Neal froze. He couldn’t very well pull out his wallet and ID. And besides, he needed to save his money. There was no reason to spend it when he had food in his bag. Of course, he didn’t want the others to ask for his precious stash of food, but it was a little too late to deny being hungry… “I’ve got a banana in my bag, actually, so I’ll be fine,” he said. “You go on ahead without me.”

Lori gave him a hard look, but then huffed. “Fine. We’ll split up. H and I’ll go to the Bart and the wimps will stay here.” She quickly got up and flounced out of the room.

Sporting bemused smiles, the other girls followed. Just before leaving, April leaned back inside and smiled at Neal. “Sorry about Lori. She’s kind of… intense. But she’s a good friend.”

“No problem,” Neal replied, smiling back.

As soon as the girls were out of sight, Neal grabbed his backpack and dug out a banana. He absently munched on it as he continued to work on his paper. True, it was just a cover - an excuse to be inside and warm - but Neal had always enjoyed art history, and he liked writing. The part of him that had pushed so hard to get a 4.0 back home was now pushing him to write a good paper, even though he knew it didn’t matter.

About fifteen minutes later April, Ellis, and Tammy returned. They emptied their pockets, hiding bags of chips and cans of sodas behind stacks of books. Neal guessed that anyone looking through the window wouldn’t be able to see the illicit food. April plunked a can down in front of Neal. “We got you a Pepsi, in case you were thirsty,” she explained.

“Oh, uh, I can’t pay you back right now-”

“Don’t worry about it,” April cut him off. “Hit me later.”

“Okay, thanks.” Neal took the soda and found his own strategic hiding place for it. Once again, the group quietly returned to their papers.

After a while, the door burst open again. "We _raided_ that place!" Lori declared. Neal looked up and found, indeed, that both girls had overflowing bags on their arms.

"We can't eat alla that!" Tammy declared, while April just laughed.

"It was on sale," Heather explained, tucking bags of chips behind books.

"And this has to fortify us till breakfast!" Lori declared, pulling a large tub of red vines from her bag. She popped off the lid and plunked it beside Neal.

Bemused, the group settled back to their work, and Neal found himself absently munching on the red vines. At one point he looked up and Lori caught his eye. He hesitated, self-conscious, and she smirked. Remembering that Nick wouldn't back down, Neal reached back out and grabbed the red vine, giving Lori his own small smirk in return.

She smiled and returned to her book, and, secretly pleased with himself, Neal did the same.

oOo

By the time that April announced it was a quarter to eight, Neal had basically finished his paper. The others appeared to be done too, as they all gathered up their bags. Lori, who wasn't in Miller's class, promised to take care of the food stash and the book stacks, and Neal followed the others out of the library.

They crossed the quad, and Neal spared a few glances around, hoping to get a chance later to look around more carefully. The girls lead the way to a large lecture hall and filed in with a bunch of other groggy-looking students. Neal followed, and when they all put their papers on the corner of the teacher's desk, he did the same. They all sat together, and, as the teacher droned on, Neal did his best to pay attention.

However, the room was warm, and his nap from before seemed so long ago; Neal found himself nodding off. He caught himself several times before the end of class, but he was quite grateful when the teacher finished with a promise to return their papers by the end of the week, April poked Tammy, who had dozed off, and exchanged a smile with Neal. "Ready for breakfast?" she asked.

Neal nodded. Those red vines also seemed so long ago. A real breakfast and then a real sleep was just what he needed. Once again the group trouped off, Neal doing his best to pretend that he wasn't completely lost or seeing any of these buildings for the first time.

Once they reached the cafeteria, however, Neal realized that he'd made another mistake. Students were pulling out ID cards and swiping them to get in. Neal didn't have one, and, just like with the snack run, he couldn't risk showing his own wallet. He froze, trying to think of a plan.

Heather stopped and glanced at him. "You forget something?"

"My, uh, card," Neal replied. "I lost it."

"I've got tons of points left," Ellis said, "I'll swipe you in."

"Thanks!" Neal's panic was replaced with relief as he walked, unimpeded, into the cafeteria.

They split up to get their food, and Neal had to refrain from filling his tray to the brim. But there was so much amazing food! He easily found the girls at a corner table, where Lori appeared to have already gotten started on her own breakfast.

Both the food and the companionship were wonderful, but Neal was beginning to feel antsy. He had already gone far past the boundaries of his original plan and he needed to regroup and plan the next part before he made a mistake. As great as finding the girls had been, he needed some time alone.

Fortunately, when breakfast ended, the girls headed off in their own directions, though not before promising to see Neal for dinner at 6; Ellis even offered to swipe him in again if he hadn't found his card.

Watching them go with a little relief, Neal retreated back to the library.

Judicious use of the library's computer catalogue lead him to the student handbook and course schedule for the quarter. Neal quickly pored over these, trying to learn everything he could about this world.

As he researched, he began to formulate more of a plan. If he claimed to have completely lost his wallet, that would excuse his lacking of school ID card. He could take some of his money to the bank and change it for smaller bills, so the girls wouldn't need to keep buying him food. He could also find a drug store and get some Band-Aids and disinfectant for his side and shoulder. According to the bus map, there was one close by and he should be able to get there easily.

He could pretend to be a student, and go to the same classes as the girls. Or at least some of the same classes. It might be suspicious if they were in small classes where they would definitely remember never having seen him before. But the bigger ones should be fine.

And if he had some different classes from the others, that would give him free time while they were busy, so he needed to figure out their schedules quickly. But he didn't want to completely separate himself from the girls. They had been friendly, and they seemed to like them. His gut was rarely wrong about these kinds of things. And with the girls, he wouldn't miss out on the nuances of this world that the student handbook wouldn't mention. Neal didn't want any missteps leading to someone outing him as a non-student.

Neal also did some thinking about his own story. He had done well, to think of a different home town, and the brother cover had been good, if improvised, but he needed more of a backstory than that. So he decided that, if anyone asked, he was a freshman, 18, and he didn't get along with his jock older brother. It would explain the black eye, at any rate. He wasn't 21, so no one would expect him to drink, thankfully.

Neal even figured out what to do about getting more clothes. There was a bit in the student handbook about each dorm having a lost and found for laundry that had been abandoned, and Neal decided that, like the library's lost and found had saved him last night, this could be his salvation.

He still wasn't sure what to do about not having an actual dorm room, but he had seen some couches in the lounge outside the cafeteria. Hopefully there were others somewhere a little less public and exposed, and he could sleep on them. The campus map was a little vague about the specifics of the lounge areas, but Neal was hopeful that he could find a secluded couch somewhere.

If was the best he could do, for now, and Neal decided that if anyone got too suspicious he could just take off. Thus resolved, and with a mental list of large lecture classes he could claim to be in, Neal went off to meet the girls for dinner.


End file.
